The sight that greeted the Acharya Bikshu outside the vihara filled him with turmoil. Thousands of people had gathered and were standing in a dense crowd. Their appearance, their uproar, and their agitation all revealed that they were a mob seething with passion. It would take but little to turn that passion into a frenzy of rage. Many among them held swords, spears, staffs, and other weapons in their hands.

Some even carried crowbars. It seemed they had resolved that if the monks did not yield to their demands, they would raze the vihara to the ground. Nor were they without reason for such fury. Since the reign of Paranthaka Chakaravarthi, wars had frequently broken out between the Chola kingdom and the land of Ilangai. Many Chola warriors had perished in the wars of Lanka. Is it not human nature that, if one cannot seize the true culprit, one seeks vengeance on whatever is within reach? The anger that the Chola people bore as a result of the Lankan wars had, to some extent, turned against the widespread Buddhist faith on that island. A mere spark would suffice. The common folk of Tamilagam were ready to exact vengeance upon the remaining Buddhist viharas and the monks who dwelled within them.

The Acharya Bikshu now believed that such a moment had arrived. Some malicious force had incited the fury of the common people in this manner. Only by the compassion of Lord Buddha could they hope to escape this great calamity! The moment the Acharya Bikshu appeared, the tumult of the crowd swelled even greater than before.

“Hand over Ponniyin Selvan! If not, we will tear the vihara down to its foundations!” Such cries, filled with wrath, burst forth from thousands of throats at once, sounding like the roar of the ocean.

At that very instant, the Acharya Bikshu noticed that the roar of the sea itself was growing louder. What the young monk had said was true. A storm of unimaginable force was approaching the shore. Very soon, the cyclone would strike the coast. Even if they survived the danger posed by this mob, the Acharya Bikshu now worried whether the vihara could withstand the fury of the storm.

Meanwhile, the young monk raised his hand in a gesture, and managed to quiet the crowd’s clamor, if only a little. “Great people! I have brought your leader here—please be calm for a moment. All of you cannot enter this vihara at the same time, can you? Choose one or two among you! Let them come inside the vihara and search. When they return and tell you what they have seen, you must accept their word. Is this agreeable to you? Who among you will come with me into the vihara?” he asked.

From the crowd, hundreds shouted, “I will come!” “I will come!” in a tumult of voices.

The young bhikshu raised his hand again and said, “What is the use of everyone shouting at once? Select someone among you. I have a suggestion. If any of you have seen Ponniyin Selvan within the last month, let them speak up. I will take such a person with me. It will be easier for them to recognize the prince!”

From the front of the crowd, where she had been shouting every time, Raakkammal cried out, “We have seen him!”

The young bhikshu turned to the boatman and asked, “Appane! Is what she says true?”

Murugaiyyan replied, “Swami! What she says is not entirely true. She has not seen the prince recently. But I have seen Ponniyin Selvan in Eezhanaadu within the last month. I even fell at his feet and begged forgiveness for a wrong I did him unknowingly. The way he looked at me with compassion and smiled is etched in my mind as if it happened yesterday. I can easily recognize him.”

“In that case, you are the right person for this task. There is not much wrong in what your wife says either. She must have spoken thinking that what you saw, she too saw. If you go in now, search the vihara, and return to tell us, she will accept it. Your wife must know that women are not allowed inside the Buddhist vihara where bhikshus perform their penance. So, come here!” said the young bhikshu.

Then, descending the steps at the entrance of the vihara, he took Murugaiyyan by the hand and led him up the steps again. Turning to the people, he said, “This boatman Murugaiyyan has seen the prince recently. I am taking him inside. He will search the entire vihara and return to tell you what he finds. Is this agreeable to all of you?”

The voice of assent did not rise swiftly from the crowd. Some murmured, “We agree,” in low tones. Others whispered secretly among themselves, “Could there be some mischief in this?” The hushed voices of their secret discussions mingled and competed with the roar of the sea.

The young bhikshu, noticing this, raised his voice and said, “Great people! Here is our Acharya, who has arrived. If you have anything to ask, you may question him. Meanwhile, I shall take this man—Murugaiya the boatman—and show him around the vihara, and return.” So saying, he led Murugaiya away.

The sight of the Acharya bhikshu, resplendent in his dignified bearing and serene countenance, inspired a certain awe and reverence in the hearts of the people. No one dared to ask him any bold or argumentative questions.

The Acharya bhikshu gazed at the assembled crowd for a moment. Then, he turned his eyes toward the sea, visible at a short distance behind them.

“Great people! I understand the purpose for which you have all gathered here. Today, I have come to know well how much love you all bear for the Emperor’s son, the Prince Arulmozhi Varman, the beloved of the Ponni. Like you, I too am devoted to Ponniyin Selvan. When the news came that Arulmozhi Varman had been swallowed by